


Magnanimous

by theicescholar



Category: Mob City
Genre: Food, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicescholar/pseuds/theicescholar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Huge thanks to KuriKoer for beta and suggestions.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Magnanimous

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to KuriKoer for beta and suggestions.

It’s barely gone eleven in the morning and it’s sweltering.

Brunch in the shade of the fruit trees seemed like a good idea, to get out of the still, stuffy heat of the house. The pool is turquoise, flat as a jewel.

Ben is finishing his breakfast. Ned has iced tea. Sid has helped himself to a nectarine.

When Ben was young, oranges used to be special: something you got maybe once or twice a year. Now? Ben can walk into his backyard and pick fruit right off the tree.

But the nectarines he bought, just this morning.  Ben had been assured that they were picked just that morning, and they live up to the promise, juicy sweet-sharp tang, still warm from the sun. One of the gifts of living in California is having fresh fruit everyday.

Sid certainly seems to appreciate it. It’s not that he’s doing anything—salacious, with the fruit. It’s a good word, Mickey used it just the other day, and for once Ben’s grateful for the man’s need to better himself.

Sid is just eating in the same way that Gene Tierney is just a bit of a looker.

He has this rare look of contentment, the kind that usually steals over his face when he’s playing the violin. Sid takes a bite and chews it slowly, clearly savouring each morsel.

Ben takes a long drink of cold water.

It’s so hot, hot enough to want to drink right from the garden hose.  Find a way to cool himself off.

Even Sid is in shirtsleeves. His forearms are tanned. Ben frowns, wonders what Sid gets up to be so sun-kissed. He knows Sid doesn’t swim.

The nectarines are bursting with juice- Ben has eaten two of them already -and it’s impossible to eat the fruit with any kind of dignity.

As soon as Sid takes a bite, juice escapes, sweet nectar shining on his lips and chin, Sid’s tongue slips out to catch the sticky liquid.

Ben swallows thickly.

Sid, who is normally so immaculate, is licking his fingers clean. Ben knows that Sid has a perfectly serviceable handkerchief in his suit jacket, staid blue cotton that blends in with his dark blue suit.

He licks his fingers, sucking lightly, clearly not wanting to waste a single drop.

Ben is just going to concentrate on his breakfast, instead of gawking at his best friend.

Then some of the juice escapes and begins dripping down Sid’s wrist. Again, his pink tongue appears, quickly lapping up the sweet liquid.

Ben pulls in a sharp breath. He wants Sid’s fingers in his mouth so badly—Ben bites down hard on his lower lip.

 Hollywood is filled with pretty people. Ben’s used to partying with the brightest and the most beautiful, having them when it suits him, reaching out and taking a star as sweet-sharp as the fruit Sid is currently enjoying.

But watching Sid lick his lips. Ben puts his fork down.

Those pretty, vapid boys and girls got nothing on Sid. Ben should say—something, offer his own handkerchief. It’s made of beautiful orange silk, a burst of color against Ben’s navy pinstripes and crisp white shirt.

He shifts, suddenly very aware of his body: the cut of his pants, the sun on the back of his neck.

Ben sneaks a glance at Ned and blinks. He’s certain Ned’s expression mirrors Ben’s own. Ned hastily looks away.

Sid is sucking on the pit, intent.  He and Ben shared a childhood; back then you didn’t waste anything, especially not food.

Ben tries hard not to stare.

Sid removes the pit from his mouth and swallows one last bite of fruit. He places the pit on his napkin. Ben tells himself that Sid’s just being efficient. Then Sid sucks each digit, index, middle, ring finger, into his mouth.

Ned clears his throat and takes a sip of his iced tea.

The noise draws Sid’s attention. He looks at Ned, who remains studiously focused on his drink, and then at Ben, who busies himself with his breakfast.

“Something I’m missing?” Sid asks, calm and sharp.  

Ned takes a well-timed sip of iced tea. Ben shakes his head and starts talking about nothing; some things Sid doesn’t need to know.

Sid’s eyes narrow but he accepts the abrupt shift in topic. For now, at least. He gives Ben a speculative look. Eventually he retrieves his handkerchief and makes himself presentable.

Ben takes a gulp of water, crunches the ice between his teeth.

It’s going to be a long, hot day, with no relief in sight.


End file.
